The Case of Captain Pierce
by agapimou34
Summary: When Hawkeye returns from an aide station with malaria, the camp is thrown a learning curve on how to deal with the sickness. Meanwhile, while he is recovering, BJ has to keep him safe from the one thing the fever makes most dangerous: himself. Contains brotherly/familial love, no slash, delirious Hawkeye
1. Chapter 1

**I own only the little tune Hawkeye sang (lol) :) please R &R if you can!**

"Beej..." Hawkeye's voice rasped softly, barely audible.

BJ looked down at the man he was holding, Hawkeye's head cradled in his hands, torso and legs folded against his lap.

"Yeah, Hawk?" BJ asked in his gentle voice. Ever since Hawkeye's diagnosis, he had unconsciously taken on this new tone- it was softer, quieter, kinder. It was soothing and warm because he knew that's what Hawkeye needed. So, BJ would cluck and fuss and soothe, he would hug and hold and be careful not to jostle his best friends fragile form and all the IV tubes attached to him. He would rock him to sleep at night when the vicious malaria meds kept him awake in pain. He would reassure and whisper words of infinite love and adoration to Hawkeye's fever wracked mind. He had become the rock of his best friends fragile life.

"I never thought you'd be spooning me." Hawkeye chuckled, an air of a smile on his pale face. Even with the oxygen tubes taped up around his nose, BJ would recognize that smile a mile away.

BJ grinned and chuckled, "Neither did I. Why, am I that ugly to look at?"

Hawkeye laughed softly, hands reaching up to brush against his brothers cheeks. "Absolutely hideous."

The blonde doctor smiled, swaying Hawkeye gently. "I dunno 'bout that, chuckles. You may be the lady killer around here, but I got Peg and a few unnamed high school sweethearts to back me up." He reminisced, hands firm on his friend's shoulders. When he noticed that Hawkeye had grown quiet, he looked down at his friend. "What do you say to that, Mr. Cynical?" He joked gently, but Hawkeye had already fallen back into the oblivion between sleep and unconsciousness.

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly. He'd been up until 4 this morning monitoring his buddy's vitals, which just didn't seem to wanna stay stable. The sun was slowly beginning to rise now, casting long stretches of bright red across the hills.

Margaret walked into the swamp without even hesitating to knock. Since Hawkeye had come back from the aide station with the awful sickness, everyone was too worried to care.

"Hey," She whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping captain as she strode up to BJ, "how's he doing?"

BJ gave her a half-hearted smile, shifting his friend carefully back into bed. "You don't have to whisper, Margaret, I doubt a Chinese firing squad could wake him up now." He quipped, pouring himself a drink from the still.

The major's face fell and she rest a lily white hand on the blonde doctor's shoulder. "He'll be alright… I'd tell you to get some sleep but word from icorps is that we have wounded on the way." She murmured sadly, as her tone always was when reporting casualties.

BJ's face paled and he groaned, laying down on his own cot and hiding his exhausted face in his hands. "Why don't we just pause the war?"

The head nurse gave him a gentle smile, keeping his gaze while resting an affectionate hand on Hawkeye's forehead. "Can't say you're the first person around here to ask that." She replied, brushing strands of black hair away from the sick doctor's face, ashen and sleek with sweat.

"Attention all personnel, incoming wounded! This one's a doozy, folks!" Klinger's voice rang out over the PA, and both Margaret and BJ's eyes widened.

"Speak of the devil," BJ moaned, forcing himself up out of bed and shrugging on his white lab coat.

Margaret gave him one last sympathetic glance before darting out to conduct her nurses. BJ paused, leaning over to squeeze his best friend's hand and checking his chart one last time. "Don't go anywhere, Hawk, I'll be right back." He assured softly, "Kelleye will be in soon to keep you company."

With that, the blonde doctor tore himself away from his companion and headed out to face the day's horrors.

 _Boy, was Klinger right about this one,_ BJ thought to himself as he operated on a young man with shrapnel fragments in his chest, _we really got it bad this time._

"Clamp," he muttered to the nurse, who handed it to him swiftly.

"What's the skinny on Pierce?" Colonel asked from across the room, stitching sutures as he talked.

"Still at 104.1 and fluctuating," BJ answered, "his fluid intake was up around 2 this morning."

"Shit," Colonel hissed, mumbling for an instrument to Margaret, "any longer and I'll have to call in a temporary replacement from the 8063rd. Charles here has been takin' the bull by the horns."

"A great understatement, Colonel!" Charles declared from his table, "I'll have you know that my feet have not left the swine of these disgusting floors since yesterday morning! If I force my eyelids open any longer they'll fall off."

"When did the guy from the aide station say this damn thing was supposed to clear up, anyway?" BJ demanded, annoyed and tired all at once. Everyone in camp, himself included, had little to no experience with malaria. It was only found in the trenches by some of the Northern swamp areas, and that was far enough away so that they hadn't dealt with any cases yet. But when Hawkeye had gone up to Battalion Aid, the sickness had decided to hitch a ride. Apparently, after speaking with an assistant medic from the field, it wasn't all that uncommon and he had experienced it before. Though BJ knew his best friend would recover, as the 97% of people with the disease do, he was still terrified for Hawkeye and feared the unknown.

"A week, maybe more depending on the case." Colonel sighed, preparing to close on the South Korean soldier.

"A week?! Colonel, my spine and I beg you for a reprieve from this unending nightmare!" Charles groaned.

BJ clenched his teeth from behind his mask, ticked off at the Bostonian's complaining. He hadn't sat at Hawkeye's bedside these past two days and watched him suffer. "Why don't you can it, Charles, Hawk's the one in a real nightmare." He bit.

Charles's eyes narrowed at his sharp reply. "What crawled into your boots, Hunnicutt? I see no reason for you to get too deeply invested in this. The penicillin hasn't been delayed… yet."

"Invested?!" BJ snapped, "He's like a little brother to me, damn straight I'm invested!"

"Enough, boys! I'll call in a native specialist who deals with this kind of stuff more often later to come look at Pierce. Until then, Winchester's off the hook. Klinger, get two surgeons down here from wherever you can until this whole mess gets sorted out."

"Right away, sir!" Klinger answered, darting out the OR, "I'll get you only the best!"

BJ said a silent prayer of relief that Colonel had given him time off. Two surgeons to take the place of he and Charles until Hawkeye got better, a chance to sit at his best friend's bedside and _stay_ there instead of tent-hopping to make impromptu post-op calls and deal with wounded.

"Close for me," he murmured to Bigelow, handing her the needle and thread.

"Yes, doctor." She nodded, and BJ headed to post-op to take off his scrubs. He wearily collapsed onto the wooden bench, shrugging off his scrubs and washing his hands.

This whole ordeal in itself had just zapped the strength out of him. He had always felt protective of Hawkeye, since the moment they met at Kimpo and traded quips. But as time went on and the horrors of war seeped into his veins, their friendship had developed into an unbreakable bond of familial love that would last long after Korea. Everybody associated one with the other- it was always 'Hawk and Beej' or 'Beej and Hawk'. Even Peg sent Hawkeye well wishes in almost every letter she wrote to her husband, always telling him the same thing. " _Take care of my BJ."_

They looked after each other, Hawkeye comforting BJ many a nights when homesickness settled deep in his soul like a painful anchor, BJ holding Hawkeye when he'd outdone himself in a late night drinking binge to escape the awful reality… _Down here in this hell, we're all we've got_ , BJ thought.

"Captain!" A voice broke him from his silence, and Klinger stood anxiously at the doorway with wide eyes, "It's Doctor Pierce, sir, he's climbing up the water tower!"  
BJ's heart made friends with his feet as he shot up from the bench. "WHAT?!" He cried, sprinting out the doorway.

A small crowd had already gathered around the tower, trying to get him down but not quite sure how. He was staggering already, climbing halfway up the rickety ladder, and anyone who tried to reach him would surely push him off.

"Hawkeye!" BJ yelled, running up to him. He looked drunk, in all honestly, his body swaying and legs shaking. Delerium. _He has no idea what the hell he's doing,_ BJ thought, terrified. The raven haired surgeon's arms swung haphazardly as he reached for the next rung, and if one listened well they could hear he was speaking.

"Come, now, dear take me up higher and higher, show all them reds that their stars are on fire!" Hawkeye sang giddily, shouting the last part as he managed to flop himself onto the deck.

"Oh my!" Father gasped from behind them, peering up at the man in concern.

BJ's eyes were frantic and he dashed towards the latter as soon as he saw his friend up on top.

"Hi, Margaret!" Hawkeye called from above, words slurred as he spotted the head nurse in the crowd, "Did you miss me?"

Everybody started murmuring concerned and confused whispers, Margaret staring back at the fever-plagued surgeon with fearful eyes, desperately begging him to get down.

"... Wha?" Hawkeye struggled to speak, grasping the railing for support, "D-don't cry, Margaret, I'm right here! W-wait, maybe you can't see me too well… since there's two of you… Oh, to hell with it, I'll just come on down!" He shouted happily, and everyone screamed when the surgeon prepared to fling himself over the railing.

"Jesus, Hawk!" BJ screamed, and lunged to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him back onto the deck, his friend slack against him. _Did that really just happen?_ He thought dazedly, panting for breath against the dark hair. _God, it did…_

He hoisted Hawkeye over his shoulders, and his muscles screamed at the extra weight on top of their aching exhaustion. BJ ignored it, though, and carefully climbed down the ladder whilst carrying Hawkeye, practically throwing him into the waiting arms of the colonel and several nurses as he stepped down.

"How the hell did he get out of bed?" The CO demanded, grasping Pierce by the arm.

BJ caught his breath and forced the remaining shock down his throat, jogging over to his friend. "Hawk!" He cried, cupping his face only to find out that it was hotter than the summer day they were cursed with, "Benjamin Franklin Pierce, don't you ever do that again! Geez, Hawk, I thought you were… I swore you were… Oh, thank God." Was all he could manage, pressing his own face into his friend's sweaty mop of hair and holding him tight. He was still shaking from the near death situation, but made himself come back together for Hawkeye's sake.

"His fever's up. Get him a cot in post op." BJ breathed, absentmindedly shushing his friend as he babbled senseless words.

"We can't, captain, it's packed with wounded! We've even had to clear out and set up shop in the supply tent because of lack of space!" A nurse piped up.

BJ closed his eyes in frustration, sighing. "Fine, then I'll need two bottles of saline concentrated solution and penecilin set up in the swamp."

"Right away," Margaret nodded, running off to gather the equipment.

"I'll help you get him to bed, son," Colonel said, looping one of Hawkeye's arms around his own shoulders while BJ supported the other half of his friend, who was sagging against him.

"Beej?" Hawkeye slurred, face smushed against the crook of the blonde doctor's neck.

"Yeah, Hawk?"

"Beej, do you hear the pretty girls singing?" Hawkeye asked, as if it was obvious.

BJ frowned in confusion, and the colonel chuckled at the hallucination. It was going to be a long next couple of days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the late update! As always, I own nothing. R &R if you can! No flames plz!**

"I'm so sorry!" Kelleye apologized for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, "One minute I turn around to get an IV prepped and the next, he's gone!"

"Don't beat yourself up, Kelleye, it could've happened to anyone." Colonel reassured the frantic nurse as he and BJ set Hawkeye back into his cot.

BJ was ignoring the entire exchange, however. The clamored gossip running throughout the camp about Hawkeye's antics earlier had already started spreading, the hushed murmurs echoing in his ears from voices outside the swamp. But he paid no mind to any of it- he was still getting over the initial shell shock of what had happened earlier. _Hawkeye almost died._ He repeated the words over and over in his head. _Your best friend almost flung himself off the water tower in a fever wracked delirium. One second late and he would have been…_ BJ shook his head, as if trying to cleanse himself of such gut wrenching thoughts. _He's alright. He's here. That's all that matters._

"Beej…" Hawkeye managed to mutilate that one syllable, voice slurred and trembling.

BJ clasped his friend's hand, which he had not let go of since the incident. "Yeah, Hawk?"

"I think… I think 'm late for somethin'..." Hawkeye mumbled almost intelligibly, and tried to rise up out of bed.

"No, no, no, don't get up," BJ said, voice thick with concern as he put a firm yet gentle palm on his friend's chest, pushing him back down on the cot, "stay here, Hawk, don't get up."

Hawkeye frowned, brows furrowed in confusion as the bright fevered eyes looked to the blonde doctor. "But… I'm late for… mhfghba… M' gonna be late, Beej, so… late…"

BJ exhaled sympathetically at his best friend, face sweaty and pale as he garbled indecipherable nonsense. "No, you're fine, buddy, you're fine," he soothed, stroking the ashen limp hand in his own, "you won't be late. I've got you."

Hawkeye looked up at him with a childlike innocence, jaundice tinting his sullen cheeks a dreadful yellow. "You promise?"

BJ smiled sadly, cupping his too-hot face and stroking it softly with a calloused palm. "I promise. Go to sleep, now, Hawk, you've got a fever."

He didn't have to tell him twice, though. Hawkeye was already fast asleep- or unconscious, BJ really couldn't tell at this point. He sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair that had been positioned at his friend's bedside since he'd fallen ill.

He hated this- seeing his friend suffer. It was rather ironic, the more he thought about it, that Hawkeye went on and on about his disgust towards the army and the deep disapproval and over sickness about the actions of the US army, yet he himself was the most seasoned warrior BJ knew. Subconsciously, Hawkeye Pierce had become tough as nails in every way, perhaps more, that a soldier was. Life had put him through the ringer, to be sure. And every time BJ looked at the solemn face glazed over with playful banter, he felt his heart clench in a variety of emotions. Honored, firstly, that he got be the best friend of such a man. He never thought a character like Hawkeye would be his brother in arms. But he was also incredibly sad. Sad that his little brother, blood relative or not, had been through so much. Hawkeye didn't deserve this. No one did, of course, but especially him. Never him.

"His blood pressure's holding steady so far," Colonel Potter's voice broke through BJ's thoughts, "he just needs rest now. Getting out of bed alone probably gave his kidneys a run for their money."

BJ nodded to his CO as the older man stood up and left, but in truth he barely acknowledged his presence. He was too worried about Hawkeye. _Only this complicated, exasperating, wonderful human being could manage to contract these outlandish problems,_ BJ mused to himself.

"Hey, Hawk," he spoke in an effort to keep things light, "I got a letter from Peg today… Erin's teething and my pa wanted to give her whiskey. Peg was a nervous mess over what to do about it, she practically deserves a doctorate with all the questions she's been asking me about whether it's safe or not because it's absolutely unheard of to give a baby whiskey over there-"

"Beej?" Hawkeye's raspy, baritone voice interrupted the blonde doctor.

"Yeah?"

Hawkeye paused, swallowing as if it was a struggle to think through his fever muddled thoughts. He clenched and unclenched his jaw before speaking. "You know what we shoul' do?"

BJ smiled sadly at his friend, eyes honest and concerned as he sensed the delirium in his voice. "What?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"We should be next door neighbors… I can… I can move out to Cafilornia." Hawkeye said with determination, almost like a vow.

BJ chuckled at the mispronunciation, rubbing his thumb over Hawkeye's knuckles. "It's _California,_ Hawk."

Hawkeye rolled his fever bright eyes, attempting to make a shrugging motion in bed. "Whatever… Anyway, we can have barbeques and, and that white picket fence type thing you already got, and… And when I find m'self a lady and get married, our kids can play together in the lawn… Don't that sound nice? Erin and Connor playing in a sprinkler… God, our lives are like a sitcom or somethin', I dunno."

BJ grinned, a wide smile on his face now. "That sounds nice, Hawk. You wanna have a son someday and name him Connor?"

Hawkeye's head lolled to the right in a feeble nod, eyes closing in exhaustion from speaking. "Mmh. It was my… Great grandfather's name… and-"

"Shh, Hawk, get some sleep," BJ urged, noting the utter weariness in his tone. His skin was hot to the touch, and the blonde doctor reached for a wet rag by the nightstand to gently rub his forehead with.

Hawkeye yawned, stretching uncomfortably in the cot. BJ tugged the blankets over him after examining his medical records and adjusting the I.V. saline solution.

 _Poor guy's exhausted,_ BJ thought sympathetically as he watched over his friend. He smiled to himself as he thought about what Hawkeye was saying. Delirium or not, the thought of staying that close after the war sounded damn near perfect. In all honesty, they were each other's partners in crime, and to leave something so strong and loving seemed almost cruel. Hawkeye always joked that BJ was the brother he never wanted.

BJ's eye suddenly was drawn to Hawkeye's neck, where he noticed a yellowish pigmentation creeping up the normally pale skin. Jaundice. Great, just what we needed, BJ thought to himself. Hawkeye didn't deserve this- he would gladly give him the malaria pills if it meant his suffering would go away, but the drug was only two years old at the time and could just as well kill you if it didn't cure you.

"I wish I could take your place, pal… Life's put you through the ringer, hasn't it? I know, I know… You're a trooper, Hawk, tough as nails. Always have been, buddy." BJ murmured softly, and before standing to go get some antibiotics for the jaundice, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to forehead, malaria and pride be damned. Because this was war, and it was just the sort of thing you learned to do, ingrained in your soul to care about someone else's life more than your own. BJ decided, with a smile, that he would feel that way about Hawk even if it was peacetime. After all, he was family.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry this is such a short chapter, but much more is coming soon! I appreciate your patience and support, with special thanks to Sandra67 for inspiration to continue this story. I already have some ideas for the next chapters, so stay tuned! (also plz plz plz R &R- they're the beating heart to my story's vascular system, the ****martinis to my still! lol medical swamp references 0_o)**

"Dr. Eom Sang is his name. His station is just three miles north of here, and he deals with malaria as often as the common cold. Says he'd be willing to take a look at Pierce if we can get him up there." Colonel Potter announced.

The four of them (BJ, Charles, and Margaret included) had been pacing about their CO's office for about an hour now, debating on what to do for Hawkeye. Obviously the treatment they were giving him here wasn't working, and at this point BJ was desperate for any help to cure his friend. Not to mention the fact that they'd been short a surgeon in OR for the past week.

"I don't think he'd enjoy the flight much," BJ murmured.

Colonel sighed heavily and gave them all the serious look he kept reserved for situations like these. "I know, Hunnicutt… That's why you won't be flying. You'll be driving."

BJ's mouth dropped open and a chorus of gasps escaped from the three. Driving? Behind enemy lines? Everybody knew that just outside camp danger lurked like a hungry wolf, waiting for the smallest opportunity to attack. They were the closed M*A*S*H to the front line and snipers on both sides slithered silently through the thick brush regularly. That's why nearly all patients, closeby or faraway, were flown in by choppers.

"Colonel, I'm not sure if you're aware, but in case your aging mind forgot, the surrounding area is crawling with roadside bombs and chinese troops that would take the utmost delight in stringing up Pierce and Hunnicutt like one of mozart's prized violins!" Charles exclaimed, earning a withering look from his CO.

"I have to agree with Major Winchester, sir, that's just too dangerous." Margaret was quick to speak up, wringing her hands nervously together.

The older man heaved a sigh, elbows resting against his desktop. He looked exhausted, and the worry lines on his face were more pronounced now. "I know it's deadly, Major, but a flight in a chopper might be just as bad for Pierce. He's fragile as it is, and the slightest gesture could tip the scale."

"Why can't this Eom Sang come down here? Isn't there anybody else?" BJ asked desperately, searching for any possible way to make the situation easier. He knew Hawkeye couldn't handle the flight- the choppers issued to M*A*S*Hs were rickety and bouncy, even a healthy person got airsick riding the. _That's just army surplus,_ BJ thought bitterly, _we don't deserve the good stuff, we're not_ real _soldiers._

"He can't leave his station, they're understaffed and low on equipment as it is! Not to mention that they're less than a grenade's throw away from the the front line. No one else can help us like he can; malaria is only found in the trenches up north. Everyone around here knows just as much about it as we do." Colonel murmured resignedly, thinking hard as he stared at a portrait of Mildred.

Margaret huffed, tossing a strand of blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Sir, with all due respect, I have to object to these orders-"

"Nobody's ordering anything, Major," Colonel interrupted, "Now, I may be an old war horse to you young colts, but I've learned a thing or two in my day and I understand how dangerous this is… So, BJ… This is your decision. You're Hawkeye's registered doctor. I trust you enough to make the choice." Colonel said.

BJ paled, and his palms felt sweatier than he thought possible. Hawkeye needed the help and medicine that they couldn't give him here, that was for sure. But god forbid something happened while they were driving out there, everything would be for naught. Things could go wrong- so horrifically, terribly wrong. Charles was right; there were plenty of men out there that would take pleasure in killing the two, regardless of the fact that they were doctors and not soldiers. It was dangerous in the highest sense of the word, but he was willing to do anything to save his brother's life.

BJ looked to the three, face set in determination. "Start the jeep. We'll be right out."

"Beej… Where we goin'?" Hawkeye asked groggily. BJ was packing blankets as well as a medical bag filled with Hawkeye's painkillers and bandages as the sick one lay in bed, eyes glassy with fever and forehead slicked with sweat. BJ set the bag down and walked over to his friend.

"We already talked about this, Hawk, we're gonna go see a doctor just a few miles away who's going to get you back on your feet, ok?" He murmured, brushing a strand of black hair from Hawkeye's face.

Hawkeye furrowed his brow, thinking hard as he glanced up at BJ. "A few miles 'way… that's the front… isn't it?"

BJ chewed his lip, sighing. Doubt had been a hot poker jabbing at his consience all day, horrible fantasies of what could go wrong racing through his mind. But he also knew that this malaria had been a horror in itself these past few days, and if it continued on like this then Hawkeye's body could tire out for good. That would mean- _no,_ BJ cut himself off, _don't go down that road. That's not going to happen. You're his best friend, his brother. You can protect him. You have to. From anything._ "Yeah, buddy, it is… but there's a Korean M*A*S*H out there who can fix you up faster than Klinger can say 'Toledo'. They know exactly what to do, we'll just run there and back. Savvy?"

Hawkeye blinked slowly and deliberately before looking up at BJ, eyes dulled with a somber expression. "Savvy… But don't die, ok? Don't get shot, Beej, I couldn't operate. I couldn't help you. I'd cry too much."

BJ's heart skipped a beat, and his mouth felt dry at his friend's sudden haunting words. He knew it was probably jibberish from the fever, but nonethless the voiced possibility of what could go wrong shook him to his core and the thought of parting from his family, from Hawkeye, was at the very top of his list of things worse than death. He couldn't survive out here without his brother, and would rather die than leave Hawkeye to fend for himself.

"I won't, Hawk. I promise. You just hold onto me, ok? You just keep your eyes on me and everything will be fine… C'mon, now, let's go. Klinger's probably already got the jeep started," he murmured, lifting him up into his arms, pale, skinny legs dangling lifelessly on BJ's side as he clung weakly to his friend.

BJ swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt just how skinny Hawkeye was. He could feel the poking bones of his spine through his shirt, and the heat that radiated off the lanky frame. This motivated him all the more to get him to Eom-Sang.

As they walked out to the compound, BJ could see that Klinger had already started the jeep and had packed their things into the front. Colonel and Margaret stood nearby, watching with worried eyes.

"You be careful, son." He croaked, helping situate Hawkeye up front next to the drivers seat where BJ would be. The sick man was wrapped up in two blankets like a burrito, with only his cobalt blue eyes peeking out from the fabric. His lids were already starting to droop as exhaustion caught up with him, so BJ took his seat so Hawkeye could lean on him.

"We'll be back soon." BJ forced himself to say, looking at the thick foliage in the distance that they were about to drive through. _We'll be back soon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Sorry for the late update- summer plans have taken over my ability to get to the computer! As always, I do not own any of the characters. Please please please Review and enjoy!**

The forests of Korea were perhaps the scariest backways BJ had ever taken in his life. He'd been down dark alleys in downtown L.A., stormy weather near the coast, but nothing could compare to the ever present darkness that seemed to bleed through every shadow cast on the ground. The two were surrounded by tall trees and thick foliage as BJ drove down the beaten path. It was like a playground for assassins- everywhere to hide, nowhere to be cornered. At every sound, be it the wind or a squirrel scampering about, the blonde captain would glance fervently, fearing the worst.

Hawkeye had been unconscious since they started driving, laying down across the seat with his head on BJ's lap, bundled up in blankets despite the warm summer weather. BJ could practically feel the heat radiating off his friend, and the unnaturally pale hue of his skin made BJ drive further every time he thought of going back. They had survived it through the entire war, he'd be damned if that changed because of malaria.

"Just a few miles more, pal, we're almost there." BJ murmured lowly to Hawkeye, not knowing who he was trying to reassure more: his friend or himself.

They were only a mile away, one mile, damnit, when BJ heard the noise. It was different from the constant chatter of the woods, like birds chirping or leaves rustling. No. This was a sharp, loud, ear piercing crack. His foot slammed on the brake on instinct, and looking back now he didn't know if he should have kept driving or not. He was frozen in fear, terrified for both himself and his friend. He didn't know how he mustered the courage to turn around, but he did. And he was met with the hollow barrel of a rifle less than an inch away from his eyes.

Breathing hard and swallowing, he followed the gun to see who was holding it. A soldier, Chinese by the looks of the flag patch on his uniform, hung down from the limb of a tree, whose branches stretched over and above the road. He was hanging from the branch by his legs, arms free to point the weapon.

He shouted something BJ couldn't understand, but nonetheless, the doctor held his hands up in surrender and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

The soldier climbed down from the tree, carefully making his way over to the jeep. He motioned for them to get out of the car, gesture accompanied by a loud shout in his native language.

"Ok, ok, we're going… Getting out of the jeep right now. Ok? See? Here. Take it, it's yours. Never cared much for it, anyhow." BJ murmured, one hand still up as he somehow managed to juggle an unconscious Hawkeye in the other.

The soldier eyed Hawkeye curiously, giving him a look that BJ could not decipher. His heart froze in his throat, and he was sure he would faint when the man grabbed Hawkeye roughly by the forearm and threw him to the ground, body landing with a painful sounding thud.

"No! What the hell do you think you're doing?! Leave him alone!" BJ exclaimed, going to help his friend. His efforts were stopped by the sound of a gun preparing to fire and he had no choice but to restrain himself from going to Hawkeye. _I won't be any help to him if I'm dead,_ he thought morbidly.

The soldier shouted again and motioned for BJ to put his hands up. The blonde doctor could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he raised his hands, eyes not leaving Hawkeye who lay disturbingly still on the ground. Were it not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, one would think he had been killed a long time ago. He looked paler than a ghost, his eyes closed and lips tinged with the slight blue that came with the respiratory problems that accompanied malaria.

The soldier frisked him twice over, searching his pockets for any sign of weapons or medicine. His hands were rough and uncaring as they pushed him away, finally satisfied that BJ wasn't a threat and had nothing to hide.

The blonde doctor was only able to stand there, frozen, as the soldier hopped into their jeep and drove off, leaving the two alone in the woods. Only when he was sure the man was completely gone did BJ put his hands down and rush to Hawkeye's side, heartbeat frantic and palms sweaty.

"Hawk! Oh, god, I'm so sorry. You're ok, though. We're ok." BJ wasn't sure who he was reassuring more; himself or his friend. He carefully lifted Hawkeye into his arms, minding his head and blankets. The poor man was shivering violently from fever, and a quick look at his side told BJ that the push to the ground he'd received was already starting to leave a few bad bruises on the jaundice tinted skin. All BJ could think of was the fear that had taken hold of him when that soldier laid his hand on Hawkeye; he couldn't remember if he ever felt such raw terror. Death was always a looming thought while he was operating, not just for his patients but also for himself. The members of the 4077th were quite aware that their lives were always up for grabs in the Korean wilderness, stationed where they were. But the moment Hawkeye hit the ground, BJ stopped thinking of death as a figure that peered through windows and doors, and saw it as a monster that had its mouth open, ready to consume them whole.

"Ok, we can… We can walk the rest of the way, right? A little exercise never hurt anyone, huh? We'll be fine. We can do this." BJ mumbled, trying to ignore the waver in his voice and the ache in his legs as he lifted Hawkeye up into his arms, hoisting him so that he lay limp against his chest.

The forest seemed darker now, even though BJ knew that the sun wouldn't set for another couple of hours. The trees cast shadows resembling rifles, and every sound was amplified by a factor of 10. But the blonde doctor forced himself to keep walking, his friend's legs dangling lifelessly by his side. His mind faded in and out of the real world for the next fifteen minutes as he walked blindly forward, trying to processed what had happened and what was happening. He was an unarmed, displaced civilian with a sick best friend and no food, shelter, or water in the middle of a deadly forest. Needless to say, the odds were stacked against him.

But he wasn't afraid of dying, he found himself acknowledging, no. He was afraid of living without Hawkeye, living the rest of his life knowing that he watched his best friend, his brother, die in his arms because they were stranded without medical help. He was afraid of being alone, of the dark swallowing him up until he became a hollow shell of his old self. He was afraid of Peg having to raise Erin, his baby, all by herself, while her husband lay in a dark bedroom, too distraught to even get out of the house. He was afraid of Daniel Pierce's sobs, grieving for the loss of his child and wife, a man who would be completely alone in the world were it not for Hawkeye. The parade of horror stories kept him occupied longer than he must've thought, and the long walk combined with carrying his best friend must've been more taxing than he could handle, because the next thing he knew, he was face to face with a concerned doctor, a light shining in his eyes as somber features examined him.

"Dr. Hunnicutt? Doctor, can you hear me? My name is Eom Sang, I am doctor your colonel consulted? You are very dehydrated, captain, barely conscious when orderly found you. With IV, though, you should be fine in a couple of hours." Dr. Sang assured, putting his stethoscope back around his neck.

BJ's vision finally swam back into focus, and he looked around to see that he was laying on a cot, an IV in his arm and blanket thrown haphazardly around his legs. He was in what must've been a m*a*s*h, although he couldn't be sure; the walls were made of bamboo sticks held together with twine and mud, and the roof was made of straw. Nurses bustled by in dirty scrubs, and medical equipment lay in various piles together. If this was the standard of sterility, it was a wonder that anyone could be healed in here.

Then he remembered.

"Hawkeye! Where is he? Is he ok? He has malaria, you're supposed to give us the antibiotics, is he alright? I need to see him!" BJ exclaimed, struggling to get out of bed when Dr. Sang gently pushed him back down again.

"Your friend is improving. He is resting next to you, see?" He pointed out, and sure enough, Hawkeye lay asleep on the next cot to his right, hooked up to a variety of medications. His face was still pale and flushed, but the blue tint around his lips was gone and the jaundice was beginning to fade.

"He should be dead, you know." Dr. Sang broke him from his thoughts, and BJ spun around to face him. "His condition had worsened into kidney failure when you brought him here. We managed to clear that up with dialysis, but any more exposure to the elements without medical aid and he would have easily been gone. You saved his life by protecting him and carrying him 14 miles, captain."

BJ's jaw dropped and his hands felt numb. _14 miles?_ He thought in awe, _That can't be right, it was only 15 minutes… The forest wasn't that big, the walk wasn't that long… was it?_

"Our MP officers went to look for any medical equipment you might have left behind by following your footsteps," Dr. Sang answered, seeing the look on his face. "By the time they reached the jeep tire tracks, it was 14 miles. You are one lucky man, doctor. Someone up there must like you."

And with that, the Korean doctor stood up to go tend to other patients, nurses walking by busily, calling to him for help on a particular soldier. 14 miles. 14 miles he had walked carrying a full grown man- thin, mind you, but full grown none the less. He didn't think that was possible for the toughest soldiers, and certainly not for him. He didn't have the stamina.

But then, as he looked to his sleeping friend beside him, he realized that it wasn't stamina that drove him to walk the half marathon. It was pure, raw, unadulterd emotion. Fear, love, sadness, anger, and above all the loyalty to his friend to keep the promise he had made. _We'll be ok, I promise._ The words he'd said echoed through his mind and he knew that was what made him walk. Somehow, he'd pulled the energy out of those pulsating reminders and made it with both of them alive.

He reached out and took Hawkeye's skinny, bony hand and held it limply in his own. "I kept my promise, Hawk." He grinned tiredly, and waited for his friend to awake.


End file.
